The Eve Before the Day
by Beechwood0708
Summary: Rather late Chrsitmas fic, set during chapter five of my fic The Secret History of Howard Moon. Teenage Howard spends Christmas with Mrs Gideon and her lodgers. There is squalor, sherry, a little UST, general unconventionality, and not much else.


Right, babies, I'm BAACK!! And I'm still no better at titling fics.  
Hello again to those I haven't talked to for ages, nice to meet you to those I've never talked to at all.

This is my Christmas fic, which was meant to be up at some point before Christmas Day, but I had terrible block (which I have on pretty much everything, argh!) and was uber-busy with uni and essays and performing in a dirty alternative pantomime. But since it still is the Christmas period, I'm gonna stick by my old motto of "Always late but worth the wait", safe in the knowledge that it isn't really _that_ late, considering. Hattie and Lu's birthday fics are already much much later. I know I've said this many a time, but sorry about that, babes.

Also, I'm sorry the Femme Boosh has been very dead lately. I know someone subscribed, and I wanted to message her and say thanks, and I'm pretty sure she wrote a fic as well which I haven't added to the archive. Which I'm feeling very very guily about. Sorry about that darlin. I've been a terrible mod.  
I wanted a Femme Boosh fic to be the next thing I updated, but Christmas and block got in the way of that. So while I'm here, I just want to let everyone know that the first Femme Boosh challenge will begin soon- everyone's welcome to join in, so check the Femme Boosh Forum in the next couple of days.

Righty then, this is set midway through my fic The Secret History of Howard Moon (link is on my profile... which also needs updating. I think it still says I'm single). It would probably help to read that one first if you haven't already, just to familiarise yourself with the characters, but all you really need to know is that Howard is sixteen years old, has run away from home and is living in Leeds with Mrs Gideon and her lodgers. I messed up the timing a bit- in Secret History, Howard works the streets for five months and arrives at the Casa del Gideon at some point in February, but I stupidly forgot the details of my own fic and thought he did it for three months, which would have him arriving in early December, ready for Christmas. So this works on that time-scale.

I think I've rambled on enough, so have a lookie, and enjoy.

The Eve Before the Day

Of all the things to have ever made Howard feel inadequate, Christmas shopping with Guillermo was among the worst.

Guillermo had spotted him putting his three hundred euros into his wallet, and had immediately jumped on him and insisted that they had to go shopping together. He had grinned and gripped Howard's shoulder, and his eyes had shone and he had seemed so utterly excited that Howard had been powerless to refuse him.

And so, a week before Christmas, Howard had found himself being pulled through a department store by a manic Guillermo, jerking to a stop and panting breathlessly while Guillermo gushed over jewellery or watches or pretty, useless knick-knacks. He was quite obviously made of money, and Howard couldn't quite find it in himself to point out to Guillermo that his three hundred euros would have to last him for a long time. He had paid the first four weeks' rent in advance, but he wasn't eager for his next payment to leave too big a dent in his wallet.

"Oh my gosh!" Guillermo cried, hauling Howard over to look at a twisted gold wristband, glinting brightly under the strip lights and coiled like gilt snakes. "Lisi will love this! You have to buy it for her! You buy her this, and I'll buy her that necklace to match it!"

Guillermo had been buying presents that cost forty, fifty, even sixty euros each, and Howard eventually had to tell him that he just couldn't afford to pay that much. So Guillermo had wound up buying both necklace and wristband, while Howard trawled the shops in search of cheaper gifts, eventually settling for things which were, in his eyes at least, vastly inferior.

Shopping with Francesco was considerably more pleasant, if no less stressful. Since Lisi was unalterably absent-minded, not to mention rather lazy, and Guillermo was almost entirely absorbed in his own present situation, Francesco had taken it upon himself to organise their Christmas festivities, and he had decided, since he had never had a chance to experience it this way before, that he wanted it to be quintessentially English. And so Howard had been obliged to accompany him to the supermarket before the Christmas rush to choose vegetables and chocolates and all manner of things, to ensure that Francesco could have the most typically British Christmas possible.

It had turned into an outing for the entire house, with Guillermo finally making a more practical use of his wallet, trailing after them like a lost dog and occasionally suggesting the odd product, usually fairly exotic desserts, all of which were rejected by Francesco's authority for not fitting in with his traditional Christmas, but which Guillermo made a note of anyway so he could come back later and buy them for himself.

Even Elisaveta had been persuaded to leave the house and come with them. She wandered the aisles in a regal silence, her legs bare under the short coat that covered her dress, and her eyes wide open as she sucked on cigarette after cigarette, arousing annoyed grunts and distant glares from other customers. She was beautifully incongruous, standing tall, proud and apathetic among the packaged goods, brown eyes casting looks of disdain. People shunned her, moved away from her presence and her smoke, but Howard found his eyes constantly wandering towards her, his pace slowing so that he could be closer to this stoic wandering spirit.

Guillermo bought a large bottle of sherry, along with the usually supply of whiskey, vodka, gin and rum, despite Howard's warning that he probably wouldn't like it, and Francesco had been cajoled into buying a tub of Neapolitan ice cream, though he claimed that this three-flavoured stuff was something he had never seen in Naples.

The four of them ate dinner together on Christmas Eve, Francesco having heated up tins of soup as he prepared for tomorrow's meal. They lazed in the squalid living room, Howard and Francesco sharing the sofa and Guillermo and Lisi sprawling over the two armchairs, chatting idly and speculating on the coming day. They passed around the ice cream, which Francesco denounced as absolutely awful. Guillermo got up to pour four glasses of sherry, then stretched out in his armchair, took a sip and immediately choked on it. Francesco burst into hysterics, before he had to gag to stop himself from choking on his own sherry.

"It's a bit…"

"Disgusting," interjected Guillermo.

"It must be an acquired taste," Francesco concluded.

Howard giggled, slowly sipping from his own glass. "Definitely," he agreed.

Watching them silently from across the room, Elisaveta drank steadily from her own small glass. Still grimacing from his last mouthful, Guillermo picked the bottle up from the floor and poured himself a second glass. Howard finished his own and held his glass out for Guillermo to refill, as Lisi did the same. Francesco sat back and sipped slowly, his first glass still only half finished. His head lolled back to rest on the back of the sofa, his eyes closed for just a moment and a subdued smile crossed his lips, before a quiet song in soft Italian permeated the air of the room, lingering in a half-recognised tune. Howard watched him open-mouthed, his sherry glass once again almost empty. Francesco's voice wasn't particularly impressive, but this was the first time that Howard had heard him speak Italian, and the unfamiliar sounds and indecipherable words, mixing intricately with the natural tone of Francesco's accent, washed over him in a wave of fatigued reverence. Realising that he was being watched intently, Francesco broke off mid-line, and his head tipped forward, face tinged slightly pink and covered by a shy smile. A quiet giggle escaped Elisaveta's lips, the first sound that Howard had heard from her in hours.

"Are we playing tonight?" Guillermo asked, now working on his third glass of sherry.

"Mmm, not tonight," Elisaveta answered, her voice husky, like a purr. "I think Franci wants to go to bed early." She smiled, her eyes seeming to flicker like a candle as she glanced in Francesco's direction.

"If Howard says it's traditional," he replied, looking over at Howard.

Howard shrugged. "I don't mind."

"I want to go to bed early tonight," Francesco confirmed. "I'll have to get up early tomorrow." He sighed and snuggled himself into the sofa, looking at Lisi and pouting sleepily. "Sing something Russian," he requested.

"No," Lisi declined. "Not tonight."

"If not tonight, then when?" Francesco asked with a mischievous smile.

"Sometime."

"When?"

"Never."

"Go on," Guillermo joined in, pulling his face momentarily away from the sherry bottle.

"No."

"Please."

Lisi smiled and held out her hand. Guillermo slid down from his armchair and crawled across the floor to her, passing the bottle into her hand and curling up against her chair as she took a long swig. She transferred the bottle to her other hand and reached down to run her fingers through Guillermo's hair and stroke him softly behind the ear like a puppy.

Her voice came out cautious and hesitant, its usual jazzy lilt absent, replaced by a haunting, unadorned tune, a shy and unconfident classical style in a heavy Russian voice. Again, Howard found himself watching her with an unbroken stare, knowing that if he hadn't been able to see that it was her with his own eyes, he would be unable to believe that this timid, nervous creature singing sprawled across an armchair with her eyes downcast was his Lisi, his uncouth, unrefined, drunken fallen angel Lisi.

The song ended softly, and Lisi tilted her head back to drink from the almost-empty sherry bottle, her other hand resting motionless against the side of Guillermo's head. Howard's eyes remained fixed on her until he felt the sofa lift as Francesco got up next to him, snapping his attention away from the entity in front of him and back to the room.

"I'm going to bed," Francesco told them. "Goodnight."

"Night," Howard called after him.

Guillermo stood woozily, supporting himself on Lisi's chair. She passed him the sherry bottle, and he took a swig, then leaned over to fill Howard's extended glass, before he stumbled out of the room.

Tense, comfortable silence drifted through the still room.

"Do you like it?" Lisi's rich Russian accent asked him.

"Hmm?"

"The sherry?"

Howard shrugged and took a sip. "It's alright," he answered. "It grows on you."

Lisi nodded. "It does," she agreed. She pushed herself into a more upright position, groaning slightly. "Will you be going to bed soon as well?" she asked.

"I suppose so," Howard replied. "Unless you don't want to."

"No, no, I probably will too, if all of you are." She sighed, then smiled at him. "Tell me what Guillermo got for Francesco," she requested.

"Italian cologne," Howard told her. "He thinks it'll remind him of home. Except it's from Milan, so chances are Francesco's never heard of it."

Lisi's mouth pulled back into a soundless laugh. "What did Francesco get for Guillermo?"

"Four bottles of Malibu."

Lisi burst into a husky rush of laughter, her body convulsing and her head falling forward in mirth. Howard couldn't stop himself from joining her, laughing heartily as he tried not to spill his sherry.

"What did you get for me?" Lisi asked suddenly, and Howard's laughter died in his throat.

He felt a hot blush creeping up him, and turned his face quickly down. "I, err… I'm not going to tell you."

Lisi stood and approached him, and extended her hand to tease his soft curls with her fingers. "You sure?" she asked.

"Sure," he insisted, a distant nervous waver in his voice. He'd only gotten her a cheap feathered grip for her hair and a tiny bottle of chocolate liqueur, and he was sure she'd be disappointed enough in the morning.

"I could tell you what I got for you," she offered, and Howard, could feel, whether he only imagined it or not, a deep sense of implication, a different offer, a hidden, indefinite agenda.

"No," he choked. "I'll wait for the morning." He swallowed, and his throat was dry. "Wait for the surprise."

She smiled and pulled her hand away from his hair, holding it out towards him. He took it and stood, and she led him through the door and out into the hallway. He caught her eye for just a second, and she turned, and without any intervention from his brain he was stooping, and she was standing on her toes, and their eyes were closed and their lips pressed together. Howard was only dimly aware of the harsh scrape of his dry tongue against her moist mouth for a second before she was gone, and he opened his eyes to see her with her back turned, ascending the stairs.

He followed her, and as she stopped at the door of her bedroom, she turned back to him. "Goodnight, Howard," she said.

"Goodnight," he replied.

She disappeared into her room, closing the door, and Howard pulled himself away to his own room. He undressed, put on his pyjamas and crawled into bed, thoughts of the evening still echoing in the darkness of his head.

And it wasn't simply the early hour or thoughts of Christmas Day that stopped him from sleeping that night.


End file.
